Wyoming Christmas Quadruplets Page 6

  Ainsley straightened, her heartbeat accelerating. This was more like it. They actually played games! This was going to be fun.

  “I’ll tell you what I’d rather.” Raleigh kept his voice quiet as he held Grace. “I’d rather we didn’t play games and watched football instead.”

  “Too bad.” Belle blew him a kiss. Raleigh’s eyes were full of love as he grinned.

  Ainsley turned her concentration to Ben, who’d fallen asleep in her arms. For all Belle’s faults, Ainsley had to give it to her—she didn’t lack guts. In fact, Ainsley wouldn’t mind having a little of her confidence when it came to men.

  “Well, pretty mama, you’re on my team, then.” Raleigh’s stare challenged Belle.

  “You got it.” Belle looked at Marshall, then Ainsley. “You two up for this?”

  Marshall guffawed. “Oh, we’re up to it, sis. Aren’t we, Ainsley?”

  She gulped and nodded. She hadn’t thought she’d be paired with Marshall. A little competition between the men and the women would have suited her just fine.

  Hopefully, the game didn’t require much physical interaction. Marshall already appealed to her too much. Her whole life was wrapped up in Laramie, not with a cowboy in Sweet Dreams.

  But what would be the harm of a little Thanksgiving fun?

  * * *

  Whose idea had this been again?

  “One more round!” Belle insisted.

  Marshall looked at his sister’s laughing face and at Ainsley’s perplexed expression and shook his head. He was glad Ainsley could see this side of his sister. The funny, confident side. They’d eaten pumpkin pie with gobs of whipped cream earlier, and daylight was beginning to fade.

  “Come on, Marsh, you have to answer.” Belle pointed to him. “Would you rather pluck a Thanksgiving turkey or sleep with a snake?”

  “What kind of question is that?” Raleigh slung his arm over her shoulders. “No one wants to sleep with a snake.”

  “I would. I’d choose the snake any day.” Marshall shuddered. “Raw poultry gives me the creeps.”

  “Okay, okay,” Belle said when the laughter died, “Ainsley’s turn.”

  Marshall couldn’t wait to hear what question Raleigh and Belle came up with. Ainsley fiddled with the hem of her sweater. So far her answers had been enlightening, and he found himself wanting to know more about her.

  Belle opened her hands. “Would you rather soak your feet in mashed potatoes or wash your face with gravy?”

  Ainsley laughed and shook her head. “You don’t really expect me to answer that, do you?”

  “Rules are rules.” Belle’s eyes twinkled with mischief.

  “Well, that’s a hard one.” She tapped her finger against her lips. “I guess I’d rather soak my feet in mashed potatoes. I think the gravy would destroy my complexion.”

  They all laughed.

  “Okay, Ainsley, it’s our turn.” Marshall scooted closer to her on the couch and kept his voice quiet so Belle and Raleigh couldn’t hear. “What should we ask?”

  “Remember, it has to relate to Thanksgiving,” Belle said loudly, leaning forward.

  As if they needed the reminder. He almost glared at her, but he refrained.

  “This one’s for Raleigh, so we should make it cooking related,” Ainsley said quietly. “Belle said he only grills.”

  “Got it!” Marshall lifted his index finger. He whispered the idea in Ainsley’s ear. Her perfume suited her, and her soft hair brushed his cheek.

  She nodded, her eyes wide. “Yes. Perfect.”

  “Would you rather cook a Thanksgiving feast early-settler style—no oven—or clean all the dishes afterward without modern conveniences?”

  Raleigh frowned. “Cooking without an oven would require an open fire. And I like tending fires. Doing dishes without dish soap or running water sounds rough. I’d take the cooking.”

  “What if you were cooking indoors where it was five hundred degrees?” Belle asked. “Didn’t they have outbuildings they used for kitchens back then?”

  “That changes things.” He pretended to shiver. “Give me a trough and hot water and I’ll do the dishes. I’m best outdoors.”

  Two of the babies started waking up. Ainsley excused herself to get the bottles. Marshall followed her.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked.

  “More than you know,” she said. “This has been the best Thanksgiving...ever.”

  “Ever? Now I know you’re joking.” He scrambled to come up with an explanation, but one look in her earnest eyes told him he was wrong. She meant it. Didn’t she have family? “It can’t be the best.”

  “It can. And it is.” She blinked those green-gold eyes his way. After warming two bottles, she handed them to Marshall. “Will you take these to Belle and Raleigh? I’ll warm the other two up and be right there.”

  “It’s getting late.” He held the bottles but shifted from one foot to the other. “Why don’t we take off? They can feed the quadruplets by themselves. Let’s leave them to it.”

  She nodded. “Sure.”

  He studied her a moment. She seemed down all of a sudden. “Is something wrong?”

  “No.” She shook her head, her braid swishing behind her. “I was just thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “I usually work through Thanksgiving Day.”

  “And we made you work today...” He wanted to kick himself. Why hadn’t he told her she could have the day off?

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying.” Her eyebrows furrowed together. “This was a real Thanksgiving. I wasn’t waiting tables. I got to hold a baby and eat a fantastic dinner with great people. And I thoroughly enjoyed the games. Don’t laugh, but I’m a little sad to see it end.”

  The fact she enjoyed his family as much as he did warmed him down to his toes.

  “It doesn’t have to end.” He tilted his head. “We can stay here...”

  “No, no, you’re right. Let’s give them some privacy.”

  He jutted his jaw out, an idea forming. “How about we snag a couple of pieces of pie and head back to my place for a while?”

  She blinked, her face glowing. “I’d like that. Except, let’s make it my place. I insist.”

  “Deal.” He held up the bottles. “I’ll drop these off and be back for the others lickety-split.”

  Her laugh filled the air, and he knew he was grinning like a fool but didn’t care. He headed back to the living room, told Raleigh and Belle that he and Ainsley were taking off, and loped back to the kitchen as Ainsley finished heating the other bottles. He delivered them to the living room, as well.

  A few minutes later, after thanking Belle for the mouthwatering meal and layering on their coats, Marshall escorted Ainsley out the back door to their cabins. He held a plate with two slices of pie. The weather was cold, the wind bitter, but he didn’t mind. The faint glow of the sun on the horizon was all that remained of daylight.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind me coming over?” He glanced Ainsley’s way. Her chin was tucked against the wind.

  “I want you to.”

  Four simple words. That was all it took to put an extra spring in his step. She wants me here. He imagined this was how a teacher’s pet felt or the guy who caught the eye of the homecoming queen in high school. Marshall had never been the teacher’s pet or anyone’s favorite. He wouldn’t mind being Ainsley’s.

  They approached her cabin, and, after she unlocked it, he held the door open for her.

  They hung up their coats and he jerked his thumb to the fireplace. “Want me to start a fire?”

  “Yes, please. I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”

  Within minutes, crackling sounds from the fire and the aroma of coffee filled the air. Ainsley tucked her feet under her body on the end of the couch, and Marshall sat on the other end.
He tapped his jeans with his hand as one thought bothered him.

  “Did we keep you from your family today?” he blurted out.

  “What?” She frowned, then brightened. “No, not even close.”

  He knew so little about her, and he wanted to learn more. “You don’t celebrate Thanksgiving with them?”

  “I don’t have much family.” Her gaze was trained on the fireplace. “Mom left when I was younger. And I haven’t seen my father in about three years. I never met my grandparents. I have no siblings.”

  “Why haven’t you seen your dad?” He tried to add up her family situation, but no matter how he did, it wasn’t a pretty picture.

  “He’s an alcoholic.” She sighed, her chin dipping. “We had an unhealthy relationship.”

  “How unhealthy?”

  She gave him a small smile. “Bad enough for me to walk away and never come back.”

  “Did he... Was he...” Marshall didn’t know how to ask it. He worried she’d been abused.

  “He was a drunk and he got mean sometimes, but my physical health wasn’t in jeopardy, if that’s what you’re concerned about. We had a codependent relationship. And it was holding me back. Curdling my heart.”

  “I’m sorry, Ainsley.”

  “I am, too.” She didn’t seem eager to say any more about the topic. “What about you? I assume you and Belle have always spent the holidays together.”

  “I wish.” He turned to stare at the fire once more. “We didn’t see each other for five years when we were teens.”

  “That’s awful! What happened?”

  Emotion pressed against his chest. He didn’t tell people about this part of his life. Sure, his best friends, Wade, Clint and Nash, knew, but... He snuck a peek at Ainsley. Her big eyes gleamed with compassion. He wanted her to know. Didn’t need to keep it a secret.

  “I grew up in Casper. Mom had a string of boyfriends who lived with us. Ed moved in when we were twelve. He was abusive. Mom didn’t see it. Or she didn’t want to see it. I don’t know. I was stupid and thought she’d get a clue if I took matters into my own hands. The next year when she told us we were moving out of our apartment and into Ed’s house, I told her I’d kill him first. Got a knife from the kitchen and everything. A week later I was sent to Yearling Group Home for teen boys here in Sweet Dreams. I never saw my mother again.”

  “Oh, Marshall. I’m so sorry.” She sounded distraught, and her hand covered her chest. “What about Belle?”

  He raked his fingers through his hair. “Within six months she had run away. It’s a long story and not mine to tell, but Belle lived with a few foster families after that.”

  The fire crackled, warming the room.

  “You wouldn’t have killed him. She must have known that.” Her stare held no judgment.

  “I don’t think of myself as a murderer, but, truthfully, I don’t know. I hated Ed. Hated that I couldn’t protect myself or my sister from him.” He stood, stopping in front of the fireplace. “It’s in the past, so I’m leaving it there. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to unload it on you. I figured we’d eat some pie and share happy stories.”

  Ainsley rose and joined him, setting her hand on his sleeve. “Don’t apologize. I think we all have hard stuff in our pasts. At least you and Belle have each other now.”

  “Yeah, well, I still didn’t mean to ruin your Thanksgiving.”

  “You didn’t. I meant what I said earlier. This is the nicest Thanksgiving I can remember.”

  He looked at her beautiful face, glowing in the firelight, and wanted to pull her into his arms.

  Holding her was one thing, but holding on to her was another. Whenever he tried to keep his loved ones safe and close by, he found a way to ruin it.

  He stepped back. He was better off not getting too close. Then he’d have nothing to lose.

  Chapter Five

  “I’m desperate for supplies. Can we stop at the grocery store after church?” Ainsley was thankful Marshall had offered to drive her into town Sunday morning. His truck handled the high winds better than her small car. She peeked at him as they made the twenty-minute drive into Sweet Dreams. He had trimmed his scruff, and every now and then a whiff of his aftershave blew her way. The man smelled good.

  This was the first time she’d ventured off the property since arriving. Not only did she need the peace of a worship service, she needed a break from living on the ranch. She hoped Marshall wouldn’t be in a hurry to go back this afternoon.

  “You got it. I’m running low, myself.” He kept the heel of one hand on top of the steering wheel, while adjusting the heat settings with the other.

  She hadn’t seen him much in the few days since Thanksgiving, and she hadn’t been able to get what he’d told her off her mind. At the time, she’d been trying to process what he was saying. Only later did the barrage of questions hit her. Like how could a mother send her son away to a group foster home and never see him again? Or defend a man abusing her children?

  How could a mother walk away from her own kids and never look back?

  She stared out the window at the open plains. She and Marshall had that in common. Both of their mothers had ditched them. Did his heart have scar tissue the way hers did?

  “After the service, we can have breakfast at Dottie’s Diner if you’d like.” Marshall glanced at her. “I haven’t been in to see her for a while.”

  “I’d like that. I’ve only met her once. She’s a friend of my roommate’s mother.” The day was shaping up better than she’d hoped. Church. A hot meal in a restaurant. And stocking up on supplies. She really should pick up a few Christmas decorations, too. One thing she’d always insisted on was decking the halls with strand upon strand of Christmas lights and homemade gingerbread ornaments for the tree.

  The gingerbread tradition had begun out of necessity when she was eleven. Her mother had left the previous summer, taking all the Christmas decorations with her. Every last one. And with Dad drinking away their rent money, there’d been nothing to do but make decorations. The ranch cook where they’d been living had given Ainsley the recipe.

  She’d made them every year since. They were her way of reminding herself Christmas would go on no matter what.

  A small herd of wild horses huddling together in the distance caught her eye. Poor things. The cold wind would be brutal for any animal outside on a day like this. She snuggled into her scarf. At least she had a warm ride to church.

  Main Street came into view, and Ainsley soaked the town in. Storefronts displayed Christmas decorations, and evergreen wreaths hung on doors and light posts. The word charming barely did the town justice.

  “My friend Clint’s wife, Lexi, owns that building.” He pointed to the corner. Above the entrance in the brick, Department Store was spelled out.

  “It doesn’t look like a department store.” She craned her neck to keep it in view as they passed by.

  He chuckled. “It isn’t. It’s a banquet hall. She’s a wedding planner.”

  A wedding planner? Sounded frilly and unrealistic. Fancy weddings were for people who led different lives, normal ones. Unlike her, those kind of people had dads to walk them down the aisle and grandparents who would beam with pride.

  “What does Clint do?” She took note of the other stores. A barber, real estate agency, insurance company, coffee shop and jeweler all occupied the town.

  “He runs Rock Step Ranch. It was passed down to Lexi from her father after he died.” Marshall pointed to the other side of the street. “See Amy’s Quilt Shop? My friend Nash married Amy the weekend Belle went into labor with the quadruplets.”

  She shifted in her seat. Marshall sure had a lot of friends nearby. She’d thought of him as a loner. Maybe she’d been wrong.

  “My buddy Wade lives in the area, too, but he’s about half an hour from Sweet Dreams, and his ranch is pretty secl
uded. Maybe you’ll be able to meet some of them while you’re here.”

  “Maybe.” What would his friends think of her? She looked down at her long, puffy black jacket. She’d purchased it from a discount store on a 75 percent off clearance rack last spring. The dark gray slacks and burgundy sweater she’d bought at a thrift store for three bucks each. She didn’t have much money for extras.

  Oh, well. She’d lived this long without caring about other people’s opinions, so why should she start now?

  Marshall turned down a side road, and within minutes they were walking toward the church entrance.

  “What a lovely church.” She stumbled on a crack in the pavement, and Marshall took her by the elbow to steady her. She murmured her thanks. The white siding and steeple looked picture-perfect.

  “It is, isn’t it?” He held the door open, and she swept past him. “I haven’t been here in a while.”

  “Why not?” She couldn’t imagine not attending church regularly.

  “I’ve got responsibilities.” He hung up his coat and reached for hers.

  “Everyone has responsibilities.” She handed him her coat. “What about priorities?”

  “My priorities are Belle and the babies.” They entered the worship area and found an empty pew near the middle.

  “If God isn’t number one in your life, something needs to change.” As she flipped over the service handout, she wished she could take the words back. Who was she to lecture anyone on their faith? “I’m sorry, Marshall. I don’t mean to sound so judgy.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t expect you to understand. Oh, hey, there’s Clint and Lexi.” He pointed to an attractive couple on the other side of the aisle. The slender woman had long, wavy brown hair, and the man next to her was tall with short brown hair. “Nash, Amy and Ruby are behind them to the left.”

  Another extremely good-looking couple, but this one had a young girl—a cute little blonde. “Who’s Ruby?”

  “Ruby is Nash’s little sister, but he and Amy are raising her as their daughter.”